


The Face Of Regret

by mvernet



Series: Blair's Poetry Journal [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Night shift - Freeform, Part Two Blair's Poetry Journal, Poetry, Story and Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Blair keeps a journal of poems he never meant anyone to read. He accidentally gives it to Jim while sharing the copious amount of strictly scientific field notes he’s written on his favorite subject his Sentinel. Takes place after “Night Shift.”Five poems written by Blair Sandburg.Sentinel Bingo 2018Slash CardFive Prompts, Five Poems, Five PartsTrapped in a dream, Warriors, Slavery, The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, SecretSeries: Blair’s Poetry Journal, Part two





	The Face Of Regret

Part Two

Jim stared at the page, then wiped at his blurry eyes. “Gabe,” he whispered looking up to heaven, “I’ve found his heart, and I’m listening.”

Jim reread the poem several times. 

_It has beautiful images. But makes my heart hurt. He feels trapped? I must be the man too scared to feel. Those fear responses again. I’m just not getting this. Why does he feel trapped?_

Jim couldn’t help but turn the page. He raised his head and listened to make sure Blair was truly asleep. His heart was beating at its normal sleep rhythm. The soft thumping sound calmed Jim’s mind like no other. He continued to read, never bothering to turn on a lamp. Blair’s poetry seemed to want to be read in the defused light of the moon. 

Warriors

Come paint my face with berry leaves.  
I’ll sit before you humble yet proud.  
Come braid my hair with carved clay beads.  
I’ll beat my drum with rhythms loud.

Come brand my arms with henna vines.  
I’ll stretch out on your woven mat.  
Come drink from my cup of herbal wine.  
I’ll stroke you like a jungle cat.

Come eat the fruit that I did pick.  
I’ll touch your lips with juices rare.  
Come leave a taste for me to lick.  
I’ll share with you all that I dare.

Come join me in sacred rituals old.  
I’ll bind our wrists with twisted jute.  
Come journey to the spirit world.  
I’ll play to guide you upon my flute.

Come tighten my belt of leather worn.  
I’ll sharpen your spear on my whetstone.  
Come stay beside me until the dawn.  
I’ll make your warrior’s heart my own.

Jim blinked his eyes a few times and adjusted himself in his suddenly too tight pants.

_Whoa, Chief. You have those thoughts about me? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s sensuous, but you are very passionate about anthropology._

Jim tried reading it again. 

_I’ll Imagine Blair as an innocent young warrior getting ready for a hunt. I braid his hair. Drink some wine. Eat some fruit. Lick his..._

Jim groaned.

_Damn, Chief! What the hell! I want you? That way? You want me? This way. Double damn!_

Jim closed the notebook and placed it on the couch. He paced the loft willing his arousal away and ended up at the chilled window. 

_The stars are out tonight. There is one close to the moon sparkling red. Must be Mars. I can see it so clearly. I can just make out a face, like the man in the moon. I used to love looking at a full moon, with that face laughing with joy. I always wondered what it was laughing at. Probably at us clueless humans. Mars though, he doesn’t laugh. There is regret on his face. Regret. Nothing sadder. I already have regrets about how I treat Blair. I don’t want any more._

Jim returned to the couch and opened Blair’s journal to a new page.


End file.
